easy to love 

Hello lovely people of the internet! 

I know I often post depressing, sad things. I talk a lot about mental illness, eating disorders, broken loves, and so on, but I would like to take the time to say that I am still doing well and I’m very happy and healthy. I would also like to post something a little more personal and upbeat. 

Now, I don’t have a lot of social media, because I deleted it a while back; I could feel myself getting bad again and needed a break from everything. 

So anyway, I don’t really post much about how great my boyfriend is, how wonderfully handsome and kind and just genuinely good natured he is, and all that other shit I would be saying as I fawn over him.  I am also choosing to post it on here because he doesn’t read this, so we cool. He’ll never know how stupidly typical girl I am. 

In the end, he is just a lovely human and he makes me very happy and I am thankful for him. Here are some photos of us trying to be cute and failing miserably. 


Okay, I’m done being lame, promise. 

REASONS YOU WILL EVENTUALLY LEAVE ME AND NEVER COME BACK: 

i. i am wild ivy and you are a wooden house with broken window panes and walls too high to climb. you will let me in and i will wrap myself so tight around your bones trying to keep you together, but you will get tired of feeling me there every time you breathe.

ii. i am the songs you’ve learned to hear between uneasy breaths when i would tell you i loved you, but i will turn into slurred words and ripped chords and you will finally realize that we’ve always been an off-tune melody.

iii. i am the aftermath of a storm clutching to your fingertips when you drag your hands along my skin like you are triggering a natural disaster and you will find it hard to live with dust and debris gathering mountains under your fingernails.

iv. i am gracelessly placed kisses that will turn into gusts of wind against your lips and you will never teach your mouth to embrace tornadoes and i guess that’s why you took off whenever it started to rain.

if hating yourself was at all beneficial, it would have helped by now.

we often take mental illness and put it in a neat little bow.
we see black and white photos of attractive people crying and pouring out their soul in a romanticised way.
poor mental health isn’t just tears and running mascara.
it’s not crying because the boy you like doesn’t like you back.
it’s not summertime sadness.
sometimes it’s not being able to wash your pots and pans, leaving your laundry sprawled on your bed because it’s just too hard, and getting out of bed to do housework isn’t exactly on the top of your list.
sometimes it’s not bathing for weeks, or brushing your teeth.
sometimes it’s forgetting to take your meds and wishing you could die in a way that wouldn’t hurt your family.
sometimes it’s starving or overeating.
sometimes it’s insomnia or over sleeping.
sometimes it’s not moving unless absolutely necessary.
sometimes it’s being cruel or rude or impatient.
sometimes it’s wanting to be someone else less disgusting/jealous/worthless.
sometimes it’s dodging important calls and not paying attention to your bank balance hitting the peak of overdraft.

I could write a long-winded motivational message for this, but in all honesty, it’s a struggle.  Something I’ve always hated are the “it gets better” messages with gorgeous celebrities trying to convince you that it’s just a phase.
It doesn’t get better.
I mean, sometimes, yes, but with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, any mental illness; you will still struggle.
You will still have moments when you want to give up because everything seems impossible.  You will be terrified that you won’t be strong enough to keep fighting.  One thing that does “get better” is the way you handle things.  It’s not a phase.  It’s a mental illness, but it doesn’t need to consume you.
You’ll grow, and learn, and find out what your weakness and strengths are.  You’ll learn how to use your strengths, and what’s more, you’ll learn how to use your weaknesses to help others, and even yourself.
If you ever feel alone, low, helpless, hopeless, whatever it may be; you’re not.
you may feel like everything is wrong and nothing works and you have no future.
Wrong.
you are not defined by your mental illness.
Your mental illness does not own you; it never did and it never will.

the world has more in store for you than the pain you’re feeling right now.

baby there’s a shark in the water

good morning, lovelies.
I’m starting my new job today, and I am absolutely terrified.
okay, I’m more afraid than normal.
I’m afraid that I’ll be a complete failure at this job.
I’m afraid I’ll be terrible at this job and won’t know how to do it properly.
I’m afraid I’ll ask a stupid question and they’ll fire me because I’m not the person they thought.
I’m afraid that I won’t be able to help.
what if I’m not making a difference?
what if I’m not a good person?

I shouldn’t be afraid of failure, because I fail at things on the daily.
I’m not graceful, I can’t dance, I’ll never be able to reach the top shelf in the cabinet, my singing was described as “you should have your own children’s CD.”, I can’t figure out how to win level 426 on Dots, and a multitude of other failures that I don’t even know where to begin.
I literally fail all the time, but this is different.
This is the one thing I truly want, my dream job for the moment.
No, a stepping stone, the first stepping stone, to my dream job.
(Also, this is not the “one thing” I truly want, but career-wise, ya know..)

honestly, I’m just scared.
loving G has reassured me that I’m just overthinking everything, and he’s probably right.
he almost always is.
he has also reassured me that they wouldn’t have hired me if I weren’t capable of doing this job. I’m literally filled with so much love and gratitude because of the wonderful people in my life, and it’s a new feeling/experience.
I’m afraid, but I also know that I don’t have to be alone in this endeavor.

SO: I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay to be scared.
it’s okay to worry.
it’s okay that I feel the world is too much for me at the moment.
it’s okay to feel what you need and work through it.
it’s okay to stick your hands up and ask/accept help.

you can’t have have your shit together all the time, and that’s okay.
what’s not okay is being so afraid to try, that you give up before you could fail.
don’t sabotage happiness because of fear.

let’s get real

about eating disorder recovery for a minute.

For reference, I’m 5’4.5″ (I won’t post weights for the obvious and not so obvious reasons.) On the left I was near my lowest weight and I always felt like shit.
On the right, well, I still feel like shit some days, but definitely not as much.
I’m surely healthier now, but that mentality isn’t something that will ever fully go away.

Do I look like I’ve gained 15-20 pounds?
Probably; I have boobs, I have an ass, and my thighs that I had been so self conscious of all those years are clearly bigger.

Do I feel like I’ve gained 15-20 pounds?
Yes, but I also know it was necessary.

The thing is, not many people see this huge difference that I see.
Sure, people can tell, but can they tell how many pounds I was obsessed over?
Doubt it.
No one cares what your body looks like as nearly as much as you do.

Scales are stupid. Eating disorders are stupider.

no one belongs here more than you.

I’m about to admit something I rarely tell anyone, because it’s not important.
Today, is my birthday.
I don’t tell people or make a big deal of it, because it’s just another day.
I didn’t actually do anything worth celebrating all those years ago.  I mean, honestly my mother should be celebrated more so.  I almost killed her, and she lost quite a lot of blood.  Thankfully everything turned out just fine, so that’s cool.
Anyway, most of my birthdays I just feel sad.  Probably because I’ve worked every birthday since I was 17 years old, including my 21st birthday, so I just never felt the need to get excited and celebrate.
Today, was quite the exception.
Obviously I didn’t go crazy and celebrate, and I did have to work, but it was a not half bad day.
I didn’t have to deal with someone yelling at me for the toner turning their hair purple, because it was so damn white to begin with.
I didn’t have to deal with someone forgetting my birthday for the fourth year in a row.
I ate a two a.m. burrito.
I woke up next to an extremely lovely man.
I have three brand new books that I am excited to read.
I am so.. happy.

quiet convos

ED: you'll lose weight.
Me: i'll lose myself.
ED: you'll gain control.
Me: i'll lose control.
ED: you'll be skinny.
Me: i'll be sick.
ED: you'll be confident, so many more people will like you.
Me: i'll push everyone away.
ED: you can finally wear that little black dress.
Me: i'll be insecure and hide in baggy jumpers, sweats, anything.
ED: you'll socialize.
Me: people will worry more and I'll lie, constantly saying, "I'm fine."
ED: you'll feel better
Me: i'll feel weak and tired.
ED: you'll reach your goal weight
Me: i'll never exist.
ED: you'll be great.
Me: i'll be dying.

there are so many days I have this fight with myself.
it’s never an easy battle, but for the past four years, I’ve won.
for six years, I lost.  That’s a quarter of my entire life, but I refuse to say that I “suffer” from an eating disorder.
Nobody forced me to have one.
Not the history of them in my family, not the media, not my peers.
It wasn’t something I set out to develop, but I clearly didn’t turn it away when it did.
It has taken many forms.
There are times when I had been heavier, and times when I’ve been lighter, but it has never gone away.  The thing is, when this happened, everyone asked me what caused it.
I’d say, “I don’t know”, knowing full well what it was.
Here’s the thing: it is literally SO EASY to hide eating disorders.
I did it consistently for six years.
My family that I lived with DIDN’T KNOW.
My boyfriend of two years that I’d spend nearly every day with DIDN’T KNOW.
My coworkers that would eat with me on my lunch break DIDN’T KNOW.
You can eat completely normal while you are with others, but still practice destructive behaviors when you’re alone.
I knew all the while it was dangerous, but it’s easy to dismiss the danger when you can’t actually see all the damage being done.
I may be underweight, but I am by no means “scary thin”.
Eating disorders cannot be measured by weight; they don’t always make you “skinny”.  However, they will always destroy the actual function of your body.
My life expectancy has been significantly decreased, and there’s no way around that.
There’s no “redo” button.
There’s no reversing the damage I have already caused.
I already have a heart murmur, not to mention any other damage done to my heart.  I may die relatively young from this damage, and it is from nothing other than this.
All I’m trying to say is: it’s serious, even if you can’t see it with your own eyes.